


Life of the Party

by anysin



Series: Taking Damage [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Drugged Sex, M/M, Multiple Partners, Sexual Slavery, Twisted Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 09:31:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11734275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anysin/pseuds/anysin
Summary: Bill has Stan entertain his guests.





	Life of the Party

**Author's Note:**

> For hc-bingo.

“Ready to go?” Bill asks Stan.

Stan looks around the room. There are all kinds of monsters around him, some leering at him openly, some trying to be discreet; they all make him equally uncomfortable. Stan’s chained and nude, kneeling at Bill’s feet like a dog, and Bill is holding a glass of dark liquid out to him. There is no way anything good will come out of drinking it.

He takes the glass.

*

Stan doesn’t remember where he is or why.

All he knows is that someone is touching him, stroking his thigh with a large, broad palm. He wants to push it away, but he doesn’t have the strength to lift his hand; all he can do is twitch his fingers a little. A laugh rings out somewhere near him, and suddenly Stan realizes what is happening.

He is with Bill and someone else. He tries to move, to thrash, but his body is like a stone, remaining still against what he now knows is a bed. He wishes he could open his eyes, but his lids remain closed too, keeping him in the dark.

“He’s marvelous,” a stranger says in appreciative tone, still touching him. A heavy thumb presses into the soft inner flesh of his thigh, inching towards his crotch; Stan whimpers.

“Isn’t he?” A smaller, softer hand brushes its knuckles along his jawline, and Stan wants to open his mouth and bite them. All he manages to do is to let out another whimper, which earns him another chuckle from Bill. “I do love my diamonds in the rough.”

The softness of Bill’s tone makes him shiver inside.

Their guest laughs, running a teasing finger along the length of Stan’s limp cock. “Shall we play with him?”

Bill’s fingers curl into his hair, gripping him.

“He might as well make himself useful, am I right or am I right?” Bill’s other hand joins their guest’s hand on Stan’s groin, making Stan hope that the darkness behind his lids will spread into his brain too.

*

He zones out. He returns to himself. He repeats the process over and over again.

Every time, there are new hands touching him, mouths about to or in process of tasting him, someone trying to put things inside him. Bill is always there, too, holding him still or joining in on the fun, dragging his fingers over Stan’s chest. There is a haze of pleasure, but also sharp stings of pain, the latter soon taking over the former.

He preserves. There’s little else he can do, anyway.

*

By the time the drug starts to wear off, he and Bill are alone. Stan doesn’t need to look down at his body to know that he’s been cleaned up, all the signs of strangers using him gone, so he meets Bill’s eye instead. He grows concerned when he sees that Bill looks serious; that never bodes well.

“Well?” He props himself up to his elbows, grimacing as his muscles ache in protest. He wonders how many creatures had a go at him tonight. “Did I please your friends?”

Bill lets out a low chuckle; Stan’s stomach knots with dread.

“Are you still a great fuck, you mean? Of course the answer is yes, Stanley!”

Bill floats closer to him, and Stan has to resist the urge to cover himself or back off on the bed. He still doesn’t like Bill’s lack of cheer, but he knows better than to try to deny him.

“Nope, my guests couldn’t get enough of you,” Bill says, lowering himself down to stand between Stan’s spread ankles. “Few of them wanted to buy you, actually.”

“Oh?” Stan doesn’t know what to think of that. On one hand, he doesn’t want to be sold or bought. On the other hand, the idea of master other than Bill- “OW!” he shouts when a cane materializes in the air, smacking him hard on the soles of his feet.

“Still eager to get rid of me, are you? Dream on, buster!” Bill walks forward on the bed, leaning on Stan’s thighs, pushing them apart from each other. "You’re in it for a long haul, and by a long haul I mean forever. Or alternatively, whenever I get bored of you.“

Bill squints at him before flipping his eye into a mouth, reaching down to lift up his right leg slightly off the bed. Bill leans close to his inner thigh, pressing a kiss to it; the kiss is quickly followed by a bite, making him cry out. Digging his fingers into Stan’s soft flesh, Bill sucks on the wound, not pulling away until he has left a bruise.

"Which is why I don’t like it when you’re thinking of other men,” Bill says, summoning the cane into his hand. He pokes it into Stan’s crotch, drawing another cry out of him. “Don’t forget who owns your sorry life, Stanley.”

How could he forget? He doesn’t actually ask.

*

After he’s done, Bill holds Stan.

Stan doesn’t know what to think of it, so he just lies still, letting his head rest in Bill’s cold, hard lap. It’s uncomfortable, but he’s not going to complain. He knows that doesn’t get him anywhere.

“I must say, Stanley,” Bill says. “You did well today.”

Bill being in the mood to praise, however, is always a dangerous thing. Stan concentrates on his breathing, trying to make himself relax.

“What, can’t a guy give another guy a simple compliment without being suspected of ulterior motives?”

“Hey, just being cautious here,” Stan snaps before he can stop himself, but even as the words are out he can’t bring himself to regret them; there are limits to how long he’s willing to tip-toe around his captor. “I mean, I’m not the luckiest person in the world,” he adds, knowing it’s better to be conciliatory.

Bill chuckles. “You’ve got that right.” Bill threads his fingers through Stan’s hair, with suspicious gentleness.

They fall into silence after that, with Bill continuing to hold him while Stan continues to do his best to not freak out, even as he wants to bolt. But the exhaustion is starting to take over, his eyelids drooping as Bill’s hands keep on caressing him.

He is just so sick of all these games, all this dancing around and fighting. Sometimes he wants it all to end.

He knows he’ll be ready to go again tomorrow.


End file.
